


once you're in this deep, no one can save you

by lohoron



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: But in a different way, Childhood Trauma, Jarrich, M/M, Pining, Repressed Feelings, Richard is bad at emotions, descriptions of abuse, jared is also bad at emotions, mentions of abuse, mentions of sexual abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:53:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25061173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lohoron/pseuds/lohoron
Summary: richard knows that jared's life has been far from easy.but it bothers him just a little too much that he'd rather tell a fucking robot about it than his best friend.
Relationships: Jared Dunn/Richard Hendricks
Comments: 1
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey! this is my first multi-chapter jarrich fic <3 so i hope you guys like it!
> 
> gimme a follow on tumblr if u want :)  
> @jarrichstea

“y’know… you can, like, talk to me, or whatever?” richard mumbles.

jared pauses.

because richard is a liar, because richard hates listening and hates responding and hates hearing about jared’s problems.

“richard. all due respect, i cannot.” jared stands up and walks over to him, fiona’s gears buzzing towards their direction. “having a heart-to-heart with you is difficult. i treasure the times it does happen. i truly do.”

richard flushes red, defensive. “no, no, that isn't true. i-- i’m just… i--” he looks almost angry, his eyebrows furrowed and fists balled into his hoodie pockets. “i can talk. maybe-- maybe you're the one that can't talk!” he frowns, stepping forward to look directly up at jared.

jared’s face shifts from kind and understanding to upset and attacked. richard immediately feels like an asshole.

“no, he can definitely talk. we have spoken for many hours together.” fiona says, _loudly and void of emotion_ , richard thinks

“well, i just-- i don't know! i-- what do you want me to do here, jared?”

jared’s face is unbelievably neutral. in a way that richard has never seen before, and it scares him. just a little. “nothing, richard. just… just drive her back.”

richard groans. “sure, whatever. i don't care anyway, right?”

there's a slender hand on the small of his back, patting lightly. “my opinion of you is no less,” jared exclaims, catching a smile. because he's supposed to be mad at richard.

“i know. maybe- maybe that's the problem,” richard offers, tearing away from jared and stepping towards fiona. “i’ll be back soon.” 

\--

jared has been sitting in the kitchen for three hours now. 

richard came home two hours ago, and he walked right past jared, who was stressing out in the kitchen, grabbed three redbulls, right into his room. 

compartmentalizing is something that jared is very, very good at. so, he takes the memory, shoves it in an old box, and locks it up tight. with heavy eyes, he walks over to his room (well… bed and a light in a garage, but it's enough), his phone flashing 6:31 P.M. he pulls out his laptop, sitting down and getting to work on anything he can.

he answers emails and makes some calls to determine who they would want to store their serves with. he takes a short break to watch a few cat videos, sneakily smiling endearingly. 

compartmentalizing is something that richard is very, _very_ bad at. dealing with stress, rejection, fear, or any other emotion at all, is his weak point. he can't believe jared wouldn't talk to him. that jared would rather talk to a fucking robot than to his best friend, his fucking captain, his companion, and in jared’s words, his partner. 

he's good at listening, right? he listens to what jared says. he always takes his advice and knows that jared knows more than he does. it’s just sometimes maybe a little uncomfortable for him when jared is so comfortable with his past. when he talks about having to make his own stuffed animal (plastic bag with newspaper stuffed in it and a smiley face drawn on), or hints about being a male prostitute at some point in his life, or when he talks about being homeless and living in a box, he talks about it like they weren't traumatic events.

meanwhile, richard can't even bring up being bullied in high school without feeling like he’s going to die. 

and jared recognizes every traumatic memory he’s ever had as a life experience, something that's tragically and mystically a part of him. events that have scarred him. but somehow, he’s persevered through it all. and he’s the strongest fucking person richard knows. so he’s fucking pissed off that he can't just speak to him about it all more often.

sometimes they’ll have heart-to-hearts. but they’re always initiated by some stupid company problem, something that starts at how they don't have enough money to last another three months and leads to how jared has had to survive with something but two pennies, a paperclip, and a string of floss for half a year. and it’s all open hearts and bumping knees and vulnerability, but no comfort. jared never asks for, or even hints at, wanting to receive comfort from richard.

it’s always seemed like he just went on a tangent, and… that was it. like he didn't really want to talk about everything that's happened, but he wanted to mention it. to show he's not ashamed. to show he’s stronger for it, and better for it, and most of all, just to comfort _richard_. to make him feel better about dumb choices he's made. to make him feel better about the idea of having to give pied piper up some day.

richard can't fathom that kind of reckless selflessness. it scares him that jared can. and feels like he has to. 

but most of all, despite not wanting to be, richard is fucking pissed off. he feels like an asshole, he knows he’s an asshole, for thinking it, but it’s just true. he’s livid about jared turning him down. livid about jared being selfless again and again. livid at jared for thinking about how richard could possibly feel uncomfortable in a conversation that is strictly about jared’s past, a conversation that should be about jared’s emotions. not richard’s.

he checks the clock.

10:42 P.M.

he hasn't eaten anything all day. jesus. 

he gets up from his seat, where he’s been attempting to code but has mostly just been thinking about jared and frowning, and unlocks his door to step out. immediately, he notices dinesh and gilfoyle arguing, and he decides not to even bother asking what it’s about.

when he walks into the kitchen, he sees jared’s mug on the table, from where he’d been sitting when richard got back, and he groans. he places it loudly into the sink, a chip of ceramic falling off the bottom brim. attempting to ignore it, he walks over to the fridge and spots the pizza box from last night. lazily, he grabs two slices and debated putting them in the oven before deciding he does not want to spend that much time. not even a little bit.

he eats them cold at the kitchen counter. sad and alone and angry. he searches the pantry as he eats, spotting jared’s gluten free bread. some weird, silent little part of him grabs the bag and sticks two slices in the toaster. 

_he’s probably hungry,_ richard thinks, _i’ll just bring this to the garage._

still taking small bites, he reaches into the fridge for a jar of apricot jam, no added sugar, and waits for the toast to pop. jared can't eat much, but richard knows he loves apricot jam.

when the slices pop out, he spreads a lather of the jam on both slices. he puts down the rest of his first pizza slice, which is just the crust by now, and grabs the second before walking towards the garage door.

he puts his ear to the door, not hearing anything out of the ordinary, and he tiptoes into the garage. 

jared is hunched over in the near complete dark, staring down at the floor before he hears the door crack. richard stands in the doorway with his pizza in one hand and his plate of apricot jam toast in the other. slowly, he makes his way over to jared, who is now looking right at him with a smile on his face.

_fucking jared. always smiling. how the fuck does he do it? why does he do it?_

“hello,” jared greets, turning himself a bit to face richard.

“thought you might be hungry,” richard mumbles, setting the plate down next to jared.

jared looks up, ready to thank him, but richard is already gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> richard can't handle change. jared doesn't want to make any of this more difficult than it has to be.

richard has too much pride.

for the past week, he’s been avoiding jared any time he can. when he walks into their workroom, richard leaves and hides in his room. when he calls richard in for a meeting, richard looks at everybody _but_ jared. 

obviously, jared has noticed. their glances are shorter. and their interactions are flavorless and bland and shy. there’s no comfort between them. all because richard asked jared to talk to him, and jared didn't.

through the course of a difficult life, the only common denominator for jared has been people leaving him.

he supposes this is the time that richard does the same thing. because he’s distant. and he's cold. and uncomfortable. jared hates that he’s making him feel this way.

so, he walks into richard’s room with his resignation letter in his hand. he won't let himself recognize that he's been crying for hours. he doesn't want to do this.

but he needs to beat him to the punch. 

“jared, hey,” richard waves, motioning for jared to sit down on the ground next to him, where he’s sitting with his laptop.

“richard, i--”

“wait. don't say anything. i- can we just sit for a little?” he suggests, fumbling with his sleeves. jared frowns in surprise, but he nods, folding the letter to fit into his pocket. 

they sit together, knees bumping and breaths synced. jared doesn't know why it's happening, but he sees richard lean back against the wall while closing his eyes, and suddenly he doesn't care. he almost wants to throw away the letter.

but he needs to do this.

so, while richard’s eyes are closed, and he’s relaxed, jared takes the letter from his pocket and places it on top of richard’s keyboard. 

“jared, i--” he opens his eyes after a few minutes, suddenly seeing the letter on his macbook. he frowns. jared bites down on his lip until he tastes metal.

“every time i start a new job… i draft three letters. this is… this is my resignation.” 

richard furrows his brows, mouth gaping open in shock and horror and something resembling anger. his eyes go from the letter to jared back to the letter and back to jared again.

this isn't real.

“what the fuck?” richard whispers, reading down the lines, realizing that it _is_ real. “jared, what the fuck?”

“take it as my two-weeks notice. i can no longer devote myself to pied piper,” jared croakes, voice much less confident than when he practiced this speech in front of the mirror last night.

richard’s face is clouded with disappointment. jared wishes he could make it all go away, and he can, technically.

“jared. why--? what? what are you- what are you doing? what's the fucking point of all this?” his eyebrows are furrowed, angry. he feels cheated on, misused. 

reaching over to grab richard’s arm, jared shifts his balance to lean against the wall. his fingers dance over the naked skin, trying hard to keep his tears in. “i’m sorry, richard.”

richard scoffs. “no. i’m-- no. jared. i’m not accepting this.” frustratedly, he shoves the paper back into jared’s hands. 

jared chuckles, demeanor as sad as ever, and places it back down on richard’s keyboard.

“legally, you have to,” jared points out, and richard wants to smack him across the face, “i really am so sorry.”

he knows that jared is sorry. maybe that's the worst part. jared does not want to do this, so he can't talk him out of why he shouldn't, because he already knows all the reasons. 

“why?” richard chuckles darkly, angered, “why the fuck are you leaving?”

jared says nothing, he gets up from his spot on the floor with tears brimming in his eyes. 

richard grabs his arm as he's about to leave, “i don't want you to go,” he croaks out, voice weak and terrified, on the brink of eruption. jared’s eyes turn big, even bigger than usual, and a tear streams down his cheek. 

“oh, richard,” jared gasps, staring at richard’s hand sprawled across his forearm, “i don't want to abandon ship either. but it's for the best.”

“stop. jared, stop. i need you here.” he squeezes jared’s arm, eyes pleadingly open and his lips pursed in anticipation.

jared lets another tear fall down. “please don't make this more difficult for me. please.”

and richard knows how hard it must be. knows that jared is hurting and that he wants to make it stop and he thinks that not being around richard anymore will stop him from hurting. and maybe he's right. maybe richard should let him go, should allow him to be freer.

“whatever. whatever-- jared. i- just-- just, go.” richard takes his hand off of jared’s arm, grabbing for the resignation letter. there's an indescribable thickness in the air, hurting both of them, attacking them from the inside out.

“i’ll-- i’ll see you around,” jared whispers, and richard catches sight of the third tear to fall down jared’s cheek. he bites down on his lip, trying to stop himself from crying. 

the door opens with a gentle turn of jared’s wrist, and then he’s out of the room, and richard presses his face into his hands almost immediately.

idiot.

idiot. idiot. idiot. idiot.

richard falls asleep on the floor that night, at three in the morning after chewing a handful of melatonin gummies.

jared falls asleep like usual. forgetting everything that's happened. it all comes back to him in his dreams, anyway.

\---

richard finds himself thinking more often about jared than not.

about what he's doing, how he smells, how he talks, how he walks, how he picks out his outfits in the morning, if he’s eating enough, if he’s taking care of himself.

all while jared is usually no more than fifty feet away from him. 

it's exhausting, absurd, really, to try and avoid jared at all costs. because it's not working. and it's much too obvious.

everytime jared walks into the work station, richard books it. makes up a lame excuse. it’s gotten to the point where gilfoyle has started commenting on it (“richard. we all know you’re upset about jared leaving. be a man and do your work”). 

it's been thirteen days since jared handed richard his letter, and they both find themselves in the kitchen, in the same place together for the first time in those thirteen days. 

needless to say, it's awkward.

jared is drinking tea, richard is scouring for a clif bar. 

“richard,” jared speaks softly, like he's about to get hit. 

richard swings his head around, looking at jared sitting at the counter with kind eyes and big hands and neat hair. “yeah?” he responds, trying so hard to be nonchalant about it, but his voice comes out squeaky nonetheless. 

“can we… talk?” jared proposes, and richard shrugs, pretending like it doesn't matter to him, approaching jared at the counter. “i don't want things to be tense between us.”

taking a bite from his blueberry crisp clif bar, richard sighs. “jared… yeah. i-- i don't either. obviously.”

jared’s hands grip his mug tighter, blowing out a breath of relief. “i thought you never wanted to see me again.”

richard smiles, as if what jared said was a silly little joke, but quickly shakes his head. “no. i mean-- yes? i mean. i want to see you, still. i-- i just. i don't know what-- what good we’ll be without you.” he frowns slightly, pursing his lips together. “what good _i’ll_ be without you,” he squirms out at the end, a whisper, nearly non-existent.

“i'll still be in your life. if you’ll allow me, of course.” he takes a sip of his chamomile tea, small smile on his thin lips, “you're going to be just fine without me. kerry is a great replacement.”

richard sighs then, turning to face jared. “i don't want a replacement. i want _you_ , jared. it's-- you're perfect.” he contemplates on his word choice. “perfect for the company, i mean, of course. perfect for pied piper. you're perfect for pied piper.”

there's a long pause, and then jared lets out a sigh, turning himself to richard. “oh goodness, richard. i’m not. i need to… spread my wings and let free. i’m grateful for all that this company has done for me, really. it's given me a love i thought i could never have.” jared folds his hand over richard’s hand, which is still holding a clif bar. “i thank you for that. you've carried me on your back for years, like a… like a horned marsupial frog mother does to its baby. thank you, richard. thank you for--”

“shutupshutupshutup _shutUP!_ ” richard blares out, tears spurting in his eyes. “shut the fuck up, jared, GOD. for once, can you stop with the silly little metaphors and the fucking… fucking dramatics.” he removes his hand from underneath jared’s, frowning. he can immediately see jared's face turn. “tomorrow’s your last day, so, whatever. i can't-- fucking, like, whatever, you know? so. fuck.” he throws his hands up in defeat, leaving his seat at the counter and groaning. there's a little moment where he almost goes back. he almost goes right back to the kitchen counter to comfort jared, to talk to him for real, to comfort him.

but he knows that his stupid fucking mind won't let him do that anyway.

“if that's how you feel, richard,” jared whispers, voice croaked and eyes brimming with tears. richard fucking hates the sight, but he walks away nonetheless. “then that's fine.” his vocal chords shiver in an uneven tempo, vibrations too loud and not loud enough at the same time. 

as soon as richard gets back to his room, he shuts the door hard and slides down, head in his hands.

“i am such a fucking idiot,” he mumbles to himself, rubbing his tired eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah, boys and their emotions.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> days have consisted of nothing more than somber sing-alongs and stress-baking. he knows how to deal with stress, knows how to push it aside and kill it quickly. but this feels different.
> 
> not because it matters more than his past traumas, definitely not, this is nothing more than a scratch on his exterior, but because he isn't sure what to do now.
> 
> these past years, jared has either had undeniable stability at hooli, or a place to truly belong and be happy at pied piper. now, he feels like he has nothing. or at least not enough to be happy. 
> 
> but he deals with it. because that's just who he is. he goes with it and he cries sometimes but mostly, he's just trying to forget about richard.

jared has not yet found a new place to work. 

he's back in his condo. after all, he’s been able to go back for a while now, but he wanted to stick around the hostel.

he wanted to stick around richard.

days have consisted of nothing more than somber sing-alongs and stress-baking. he knows how to deal with stress, knows how to push it aside and kill it quickly. but this feels different.

not because it matters more than his past traumas, definitely not, this is nothing more than a scratch on his exterior, but because he isn't sure what to do now.

these past years, jared has either had undeniable stability at hooli, or a place to truly belong and be happy at pied piper. now, he feels like he has nothing. or at least not enough to be happy. 

but he deals with it. because that's just who he is. he goes with it and he cries sometimes but mostly, he's just trying to forget about richard.

which is becoming increasingly difficult. because his love for richard is (and was) never fleeting. he thinks about him every day. everything he does feels like a reminder of richard’s angled face and anxious eyes. every time he makes tea, he finds himself making a second mug the way that richard likes it. it's completely subconscious.

\---

when jared comes back from his daily hike, dressed in tiny shorts and an oversized t-shirt, his door is cracked open.

he takes his backpack off and pulls out his hunting knife. _i’m not afraid to scalp a bitch if i have to,_ he thinks, eyes wide and footsteps light. he tiptoes towards the door, opening it a bit more.

he did not expect _this,_ that's for sure.

because there's a nervous, nail-biting little richard dressed in a fucking _suit_ sitting at his little dining table. a candle is lit in the middle. there's a dish of what seems to be gnocchi on either side. a small side salad stands next to the plate. 

jared is still holding the knife, now staring right at richard with wide eyes. he can feel himself start to tear up, emotion flooding over him. richard chuckles in the direction of his knife, almost begging him to put it down.

“hey,” richard whimpers out, voice quivering and unsteady like it needs somebody to hold on to. “is this creepy?” a blush spreads over his face, and jared smiles bright and deep and shakes his head, shutting the door behind him. he lays the knife flat onto the end table right next to his door and he wipes away a tear. 

“oh, richard,” jared whispers, star-struck. he toes over to the table, softly taking a seat and staring at richard across from him. the candlelight is illuminating the bottom half of his face, making his lip biting somehow more obvious. jared feels faint of heart. “what- what are you doing here?”

raising his glass of wine, richard smiles hesitantly. jared raises his, too, clinking richard’s glass. “because i’m an asshole.”

jared chuckles, shaking his head as they both take a sip from the malbec. “you're not--”

“jared… i… i-- i would love to hear about your life.” richard hesitantly asks, squeezing his eyes shut in hesitation as he pokes his fork into the vegan, gluten-free gnocchi. “if you feel comfortable sharing it.”

the whole thing nearly makes jared queasy. richard in a suit, richard speaking vulnerably, richard with his messy hair and his home-cooked meal and his beautiful little words. 

“or we can just… we can just enjoy each other’s company,” richard suggests afterwards, like he had a second plan. “go on the date we never went on…” he trails off, chuckling lightly. as if it was obvious. as if they'd talked about it before.

jared had tried to keep his feelings purely platonic. it had failed a long time ago, and he never, ever, ever, realized (or believed) that richard could ever feel the same. could reciprocate.

“gosh, richard, i-- i-- don’t know what to say. i’m… i’m so overwhelmed,” jared smiles, his heart feeling heavy with love. he takes a bite from the pasta, and he tries so hard to not make a face (because yes, it is bad. but like… richard doesn't cook. ever. so just the idea is so sweet. and jared doesn't want to ruin it).

“shit. it's too much, isn’t it? i’m sorry, ja--”

“no, no, no,” jared smiles, putting down his fork and reaching halfway in between them with his hand until richard places his hand into his own. they stare down at their touching, sweaty, hands for a couple of minutes, goofy smiles on both of their faces. “it’s-- it's perfect. i just-- i never… i never knew. never knew you liked me.”

there's a squeeze of a hand, and jared doesn't really know who squeezes whose. “neither did i,” richard chuckles, “only after. when… when you left. i realized that i… like… really liked you.” he sips wine with his free hand, his fingers still dancing on jared’s palm. “you mean so much to me, jared. so much. and… and-- i was a selfish asshole. and i’m sorry for saying all that dumb shit about uncle jerry’s game,” a flinch from jared, “that wasn't cool of me. not at all. jared, i am so sorry. i-- i just… i really like you.”

jared tears up again, biting down on his lip. “richard,” he whispers endearingly, thumbing over his knuckles, “oh, my richard. you… oh. i don't even know what to say.”

richard chuckles, nodding. “take your time,” he whispers, soft and reassuring and it makes jared shed a tear.

they sit in comfortable silence for two minutes, hands overlapped, eating richard’s mediocre gnocchi, sipping wine. 

“thank you,” jared whispers, raising richard’s hand to his mouth and pressing a soft kiss to his palm, smiling. richard turns red immediately, the color on his cheeks making jared feel even more endeared. “richard, really, i… i don't know what to say. this is… this is so wonderful. richard, gosh, let's talk. let’s talk,” he chants, smiling with his pretty teeth.

richard wants to cry because, well, he's really trying.

after reading what felt like days of blogs and making two reddit posts, he feels like he has a hang of how he should handle this. how he should talk to a traumatized loved one. how he should approach their trauma. he shouldn't force it. jared sets the timeline. jared controls when he wants to share.

“i want to tell you about my favorite foster mother, oh gosh, she was so incredible,” jared taps on richard’s fingers and then untangles their fingers, smiling as he takes a sip of wine and glances at richard through the glass. richard leans in, anxiously interested. “her name is linda dorothy lancaster. she… she made me feel at home even though i didn't really have one. made me come out of my shell.” jared smiles thinking about her. 

“i was seventeen when i came to her. i was going to be ready, in just a few months, to go to college,” richard eats his half-decent gnocchi, “i was all… angsty. anxious and hiding behind long hair and acne-ridden skin. gosh, i was a sight.” 

they talk for hours.

jared tells him about linda, about loving him for his weird quirks and encouraging them to come out. about shaping jared into the person he is. he mentions a few past foster families that were especially shitty to him (“there was this one family, the murphy’s. they only fostered kids to exploit them on the internet. i was no exception.” _”god, jared, i would kill them if i could.”_ “thank you, richard.”). he mentions the adamant drug use in his teenage years that started at twelve when his foster father used to supply him with cocaine and would force him to snort a line before they watched tv together. he mentions his ten years being clean from all drug use. he mentions his fear of heights because he fell from a tree at vassar. he explains with great sorrow and fear and trouble that he’s attempted suicide once and contemplated it daily as a teenager (weekly as an adult; it’d been a joke to lighten the mood. richard had giggled).

richard listens to it all.

chin resting on his hands, interested and proud of jared (not just for sharing, but for fucking overcoming all this bullshit). his eyes are glimmering and he’s a little bit tipsy, giggles filling the air when jared mentions his experience with cabbage patch dolls (he loves them, still has the two that linda gave to him before he moved on to college). 

at some point, neither of them really know when, they migrated to the couch. “when i got to college, everything really changed for me, richie,” jared mumbles, smiling, “i got a girlfriend, and i… focused on finding stability. on being the best i could be.” he still can’t hold his liquor. _you’re an adult, god dammit, keep it together,_ he thinks, chuckling into his glass.

“i don’t know how you do it,” richard’s eyes glisten as he stares down at jared’s hand. he hates touching. he hates touching people and he hates being touched but he wants to hold jared’s hand more than he ever thought he could want anything in his entire life. 

“do what?” jared asks, confused.

richard tells his stupid anxious voice to shut up and he softly settles his hand over jared’s. his skin feels like it’s on fire.

“just… i don’t get… how you’re _you._ i don’t know how you go through life having dealt with all this shit. i don’t know how you’re so kind and forgiving and loving and nurturing after being hurt so much. i don’t know how you have any faith in humanity, but god fucking dammit, am i glad that you do, because otherwise you would’ve never stepped out of gavin belson’s prison,” richard stutters out, his thumb tracing over jared’s ring finger, “and maybe we wouldn’t be here right now,” he starts, and then reconsiders, shaking his head softly, “no, fuck that, no. i feel like i would have known you one way or another. that we would get here one way or another. i appreciate you so much,” richard’s drunken babble is music to jared’s ears.

there’s a soft sniffle next to him, and it doesn’t really register that it’s from jared. “you are the only person, ever, i think, to have told me that,” jared chuckles, sad and happy at the same time in a way that’s disorienting for richard.

“what? that you’re the best person in the world?” richard plays up, nudging his shoulder against jared’s. jared grins, settling on feeling happy.

“no, that-- that you appreciate me. and are happy to know me,” he whispers back, staring down at their hands. “it means a lot to me.”

richard knocks his head against jared’s shoulder, leaning back into the couch. “of course i’m happy to know you,” he returns, squeezing jared’s hand tightly, “i’m glad you… stuck around long enough to meet me.”

and he supposes that’s where jared breaks. because he’s really, truly, crying now. his wine glass is set on the table, ring forming preemptively. his arms are clung around richard and richard is hanging on just as tightly. tears soak his suit. he wishes he could pull all of the sadness out of jared like a vacuum.

because sometimes his problems seem like too much to handle. his anxiety and his perpetual self-doubt (but conflicting ego and stubbornness) become like quick sand, sinking him to his knees, his stomach, his chest, his chin, until somebody can manage to pull him out bit by bit. but it’s like jared has been drowning at sea for years and nobody has managed to fish him out. and richard wants so badly to guide him to shore. 

instead, he settles on letting jared cuddle up to him. settles on running his hand through jared’s hair while jared cries quietly. settles on whispering sweet words to make him feel worthy again.

and it’s enough. because jared feels truly, unconditionally loved for the first time in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> almost finniiisheeddd :-)


	4. Chapter 4

it's harder than jared expected it would be.

richard, never the fan of touches in the first place, has not shown any increase in affection for jared over the past three weeks whilst in the work environment (which jared quickly jumped on again). 

some might even describe it as _less_ affection (gilfoyle mainly. okay, only gilfoyle). he's distant and works too much and doesn't look up when jared speaks like he used to. 

and jared feels like it is definitely his fault.

he made richard hold him while he cried about his silly little past. he made richard touch him so much, get so close to him. he exposed richard to all of the bad parts of him and now he wants out. he wants out.

when jared spends the night in richard’s room, it's usually on the floor, alone.

(but twice, richard had creeped next to jared in the middle of the night. and once, richard has asked jared to sleep with him on the bunk.)

they haven't kissed yet. three weeks and they haven't kissed yet. only hand kisses. which jared loves, really, truly, but it's getting to be a little terrifying to him.

he's never experienced love as a slow, trust-building process. the only relationships he's been in since college have all been casual flings, sometimes a short time girlfriend (and once a boyfriend). not like this. it was quick and filled with only passion, flickering like a flame. this was so much different. and jared doesn't know if he… enjoys it. 

he enjoys richard. god, he enjoys every part of richard. when he lets him hold him, when he smiles at one of jared’s little tangents, when he stumbles on his words (or his shoe laces), when he's watching the discovery channel, leaning in, because jared always has it on. all of it is so perfect. 

except the parts that aren't. such as: jared doesn't know if richard knows what a relationship is and jared also doesn't know if richard _wants_ a relationship, because, like, they went on one date. and then they fell asleep on the couch together and went out to brunch. but that was all. 

and yeah, they spend a lot of time together, but they have for years. now they just cuddle sometimes. jared cuddles with almost all his friends (dorothy, susan, kip, the list goes _on_ ), so is richard just another friend he cuddles, or a boy he's dating?

the fucking rhetorical questions are killing him. he feels like he's going to explode any second of any day. which is not a positive. 

but the final fucking straw comes on the thirteenth of april, on a sunday night, whilst they play a classic round of always blue.

richard finishes his round and jared gets ready to receive it from him, smiling gently at richard. 

and then richard chucks it past jared over to dinesh, shouting, “ooh! tough catch!" when trying to blame his awful aim on him.

to which gilfoyle responded, “richard, my great grandmother could have given a better shot. and she’s 112 years old.”

to which richard responded, “wow, what, your great grandmother is… is still alive?”

all while jared sat in the middle, face faltering slowly. it felt like defeat of some sort. richard never treated him like one of the other guys. he knew he was more sensitive, needed more patience and understanding and was kinda this… special little odd duck that he adored. 

now it feels like richard is making fun of jared in the same way dinesh makes fun of gilfoyle. cruel with a hint of true feelings.

jared gets up while richard inquires about gilfoyle’s great grandmother. he toes into richard’s room, sitting on the floor on his blanket in richard’s room. his blanket in richard’s room. 

“he's definitely bullshitting you,” dinesh says to richard, waving off in gilfoyle’s direction. gilfoyle shakes his head, crossing his arms as he rests back into his chair.

“yeah, i think so. no way. c’mon, are you-- jared, do you think--” richard has a bright smile on his face, looking back over his shoulder in hopes to see jared smiling along with him, but being faced with an empty chair, “guys, where’s jared?”

gilfoyle smirks and leans forward, “he went to your room circa five minutes ago. keep a tighter leash on your boyfriend, dick.” dinesh laughs, richard turns red and grunts, shaking his head.

“shut… he's not my-- fuck you, uh-- you're racist. fuck you,” richard groans as he storms away from the table and into his room, immediately spotting jared sitting with his legs crisscrossed on the floor. 

“richard,” jared breathes.

“hey, what's going on? why aren't you out there with us?” richard asks, sitting down next to him. 

jared wants to puke. 

“what are we doing?” he asks, squeaky and nervous. 

richard frowns. “what do you mean?” jared reaches to put a hand over richard’s and richard flinches. richard smiles sadly. “i just… i don't like… being touched. usually. but… i mean-- it's getting better. i just--”

“no, oh, richard, i don't mean to say your anxiety is creating problems between us. i think it's rather that mine is,” jared exclaims, “do you… what are we to each other? what do you think we are?”

he turns bright red, staring down at his hands as jared tries to peak at his facial expressions. his eyes are squeezed shut, terrified smile on his lips. “i mean-- i-- are we not… dating? boyfriends? did i… misread this? are we not?”

a chill runs down his spine, thinking of the idea that he might have fucked everything up. instead, he hears jared breathe out a breath of pure relief. “are we? i would love to be.” 

richard nods, looking up at jared with big eyes. “yes, i mean, yeah, yes. then we’re… we’re boyfriend.” 

jared hesitates, scratching their back of his neck, “it's just… i feel like you act so distant when we’re around the guys. is it… would you want to not tell them?”

richard grunts. because he knows they had to have this conversation sometime. why richard is taking it so annoyingly slow. why richard isn't showing any affection. why richard doesn't want the guys to know. 

“i… i don't think so. i mean. not right now. for a while.” he shifts in his seat, moving closer to jared and reaching a hand onto his ankle. 

“do you think they would… feel weird about it?”

“no, no, not at all. they'd joke about it a lot. that would be… fucking annoying, hehe,” richard chuckles, thinking of the insults they'd throw at them ( _now we know why jared got the promotion_ ), “but. i would feel… feel weird if they knew. i know it's-- i mean, it's not _weird_ to date but i-- nobody like, knows, you know? that i’m not straight. and i just… it's all so new to me,” he laughs, awkward and sad and jared nods.

“i know, i’m sorry. i shouldn't be pushing you,” jared whispers back, scaling his fingers softly over richard’s hand. 

“no, i mean, it's okay. i've been a dick. i… i've never been into someone like this. you know? like… like in this way that i don't want to do a single thing… to-- uh, fuck it up.” he leans into jared, feeling his anxiety melt away very, very slowly. 

jared tucks his arm behind richard’s back. “you will not mess it up. as long as we try to keep an open line of communication between us, neither of us is doing anything wrong.” richard nods, agreeing softly.

“i know you're sad i haven't kissed you yet,” richard whispers, twiddling his thumbs. jared cocks his head over.

“why do you say that?” jared responds, drawing soft circles on richard’s back.

“because… because it's been three weeks. since the date. i just… i’m sorry. i don't know why it all means so much to me,” richard chuckles, “it's a bit overwhelming.”

“oh, captain,” jared smiles, richard’s head hitting against his shoulder, “take it at your own pace. you owe me nothing.”

but that's the thing: he doesn't care. he should kiss jared because he wants to kiss jared. richard is so fucking mad at himself for being such a stupid fucking asshole. for making jared wait just to get a kiss. for making him wait just to get a conversation about why richard is being annoyingly distant. 

and after all those times jared told him (vaguely) about not being loved by anybody and being used for years, he wants to be the opposite. he wants to show jared love and happiness and how beautiful the world is. but he's scared because he's not sure he's found out himself, either.

“god, whatever, i’m being such an idiot,” richard mumbles, and his hands reach to touch either side of jared’s head, staring him in the eyes for just a second before pressing his mouth sloppily onto jared’s.

richard kisses in a way that jared would have never expected, but it seems perfectly on brand.

his hands are shaky and his lips are trembling slightly, but he’s sucking on jared’s mouth like it's a certainty. like it's the only thing he wants to know anymore. his eyes feel heavy, head dizzy with desire. because this is really what he has been wanting to do this whole fucking time.

when he pulls away, it's with a sharp, anxious inhale. he's resting his nose against jared’s and smiles, breathless. “sorry, i--”

jared presses their lips back together and smiles into it. lets richard separate his lips with his tongue. he allows richard’s hand to softly grip for his waist, now half on top of him and half to his side. it feels like a bit of a dream. especially when he notices richard’s teeth bump into his own, giggling.

richard pulls away first, face red and clearly very, very anxious about it all. “we should… uh--” richard speaks softly, pointing at the door, and jared nods (secretly wishing so, so badly that big head, dinesh and gilfoyle were not in the other room right now). “i’ll be nicer to you in front of the guys. that… was a dick move.” richard chuckles, following jared getting you and grabbing his hand to get there, “i seem to have a lot of those.”

jared wistfully shakes his head, pressing a kiss to richard’s hand. “let's get back out there,” he whispers, soft and satisfied. 

and it's small, unnoticeable and insignificant, but jared feels richard’s hand on his back as he stumbles to stand on his feet, and it makes his head spin.

**Author's Note:**

> (just realized this is my second fic in which fiona was the center part of getting these two nerds to bond. interesting.)


End file.
